


Memorandum

by FireEye



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Gen, Trust and Vows, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SR2.  Some promises, you just have to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memorandum

“ _You_ promised.”

“Oh, and who’s gonna hold me to it? _You_?”

Gunfire echoed, muffled within the temporary shelter that was the Mausoleum. Crouching beside him, Faith flinched, shivering wet from the late spring rain – overall, not a picture of intimidation in the least. But her level gaze and her utterly childish pout never wavered.

“Look, I hate to be the one to crush your boundless idealism – it’s cute, it really is – but promises don’t do either of us any damn good if I die keeping them,” Johnny hissed at her. “Aisha’s dead – she ain’t gonna give a fuck – and I tell you straight, I could really go for breaking Akuji’s ugly face in with his own fucking motorcycle right about now.”

For a moment, that seemed to hammer it home. Faith’s glare weakened, her eyebrows knitting together in thought as she bit her lip. She sighed, shoulders slumping, somehow even _less_ intimidating.

But she didn’t hand over either of her pistols.

“I’ve got a plan,” she said at length. For a long moment, that seemed all she was about to say. The semi-automatic pistol appeared in her hand, and she toyed with it thoughtfully.

He could have simply taken it from her.

As it was, he was sorely tempted.

“Hey, no hurry,” Johnny told her, ire in his voice as he squashed the impulse flat. “We got all day.”

“There’s... there _was_ , before Shogo decided he had to prove that he’s _that much of an asshole_...” Faith shook her head, cutting the thought short. As if on cue, there was another burst of gunfire. Farther away this time. “There was another funeral in the works,” she explained, “Hole’s dug. Casket’s out. Noticed it on the way in.”

She paused for dramatic effect, letting him follow her line of thought to its inevitable conclusion before continuing.

“Bury him alive, and he’d stay alive long enough for us to finish up the ceremony and go home,” she finished, her voice was eerily soft, “You won’t be killing anybody. _Technically_.”

Johnny stared at her, eyebrows raised. Holding her breath, Faith regarded him evenly. But then a smirk crept across his face, and her breath was lost as he lunged to crush her in his arms. The snigger that shook his shoulders made its way out of him as a breathless laugh to which Faith half-smiled, squinting at him.

His hands slid back to her shoulders, and he pushed her back, while still gripping her tight.

“You are fucking brilliant.”

For a moment, she sat still. The faint smile faded entirely as she steeled herself; breathing deep, she shrugged him off, then cracked her knuckles, cricked her neck, and twisted on her heels to face the sky beyond the door.

“Sit tight,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”

Johnny’s hand clamped down over the leather of her vest, tugging her back.

“If you get yourself killed out there,” he warned her, “I will fucking kill you.”

“Remember who taught me?” she blinked. “I’ll be fine.”

Without another word, she crept to the door, and into the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> That's probably how it happened, I don't know.


End file.
